Archive of ‘Why Did You Wear That?’ category

If you’ve been keeping up with my Parisian escapades (parts deux et trois), you’re probably wondering what became of this romantic journey. Well, unlike most fairytales, this story didn’t have the happy ending that little girls dream of (or massage parlors promise). However, it did have the life lessons that grow sweet little girls into strong wise women. In short, what some might have chocked up to be a trip from hell, I was able to extract some very, very important universal truths. I didn’t fall in love with a handsome French man. I didn’t buy the perfect vintage coat in Le Marais. I didn’t even see the top of the Eiffel Tower though it was quite literally a baguette’s distance away.

People then ask, “Well, what did you do?” and I can’t really answer that. There was no Mona Lisa at the Louvre, I never ate escargot. I didn’t lock away my love on the Pont des Arts. I did have lunch at Colette, drank champagne while chatting up a couple of artists at Cafe de Flore, and took a spin on La Grande Roue de Paris. I made new friends, I reconnected with some I had lost touch with. Most importantly, I was smacked in the face with my own little life lesson: if you don’t take the wheel, someone else most certainly will.

When you board a bullet train, keep in mind it can be derailed just as quickly as it can get you to your destination. My friend arrived on the morning of my birthday. We started the day off without sleeping and a bottle of champagne (champagne tastes better on an empty stomach). By the end of the day, we had a cute French boy singing “Happy Birthday” (Joyeux Anniversaire) with his guitar and buying me a birthday card from a pharmacie with an age on it that might not be my own. The evening included dinner at L’Avenue (which we lucked into as we hadn’t made an earlier reservation and Paris was still empty) and cocktails (read: more champagne) at Le Bar du Plaza Athénée. There was no cake, there was no singing and this was the beginning and prologue to a very long week.

To fit all that occurred into one or two more paragraphs would not do the journey justice and ironically, some parts of my personal life should probably stay private. A few notable moments did include spontaneously regaining a grasp of my French, learning that you can bring your dog just about anywhere (including the grocery store), champagne showers at couture week after parties at Hotel Costes, and actually losing weight while eating bread. By the end of the week, I was exhausted both physically and emotionally. The universe did me a solid by canceling my flight home due to Juno (sorry, New York) allowing me a few more days in Paris on my own. While the only physical souvenirs I arrived home with were some French books from the airport and sweets to share with friends at home, the real gifts were the lessons I learned about myself. (And Hemingway was right).

I didn’t go to Paris with someone I love as I’d always imagined, but there are some mornings I find myself longing to awake in the golden morning light of that magical city.

I was once at a bar where a guy asked me if I wanted to slip into something more comfortable… like a coma. Needless to say, that went over like a lead balloon. In any case, if you are looking to look like Rosie (Huntington-Whiteley) on any given night of the week, then you’re going to need a slip that you can dress up to get down. The best news is, you won’t need PJ’s for the sleepover you are sure to get an invitation to.

In the past month, Rosie Huntington Whiteley has made headlines for wearing her underpinnings on the outside- on more than one red carpet occasion. Personally, I love the look asI’ve worn a nightgown out on the town more than a few times, but it seems to have caught many celebrity fashion onlookers off guard. How on Earth does a woman other than Blanche Devereaux wear a slip outside the confines of the boudoir? Well, let’s be serious, many dresses currently on the market leave less to the imagination than a silky slip of fabric. To me, the implication of what lies underneath is much sexier than four thousand strategically placed cut outs, sheer panels, or up to there slits. Should you want to follow Rosie’s lead, below is one way to make a very glamourous nightie’s night out complete.

The red carpet was red hot this year at the 87th Annual Academy Awards. While it poured down rain in Los Angeles, causing a hot box effect with plastic tenting literally wilting A-list hairstyles and melting perfectly made up faces, nominees and future winners did not let us down in the dress department. While there was nothing truly offensive, there were also very few that inspired any standing ovations, which would be saved for John Legend, Common, Patricia Arquette, and Graham Moore. Saint Laurent on both Dakota Johnson and Margot Robbie were two of my early favorites. When Rosamund Pike arrived in a perfectly fitted Givenchy frock only two months after giving birth, I shed a tear and poured out a little bit of alcohol, which my dog quickly lapped up. A few debatable dresses were worn by Lupita Nyong’o, Nicole Kidman, and Felicity Jones. I’m not sure why, but Khloe Kardashian was recruited by E! for her opinions on red carpet arrivals, to which she held nothing back. I zoned out from the actual awards show after Neil Patrick Harris’s first failed joke, but I did catch Julianne Moore’s well deserved acceptance speech, Common’s freckles, Lady Gaga’s epic cover of The Sound of Music, and the absence of Joan Rivers in the Memoriam.

Navy, Baby:

Right before I left for Paris, one of my favorite clients (I moonlight as a social media and branding consultant) read my chart for me. I had never had someone read my chart and finding out what time I was actually born from my parents was harder to find out than unearthing my ex boyfriend’s grandmother’s maiden name. As she informed me that I couldn’t be more of an Aquarian if I sold all my belongings and moved to an ashram, she also mentioned something that I’d heard a time or two before in horoscopes for my sign. She told me that the man for me would be foreign or that I would most certainly meet him while traveling. She also mentioned he’d be a little older and then she suggested something I’d never heard– he, too, should be an Aquarian, because as I’ve experienced, very few men can even begin to understand me and it might take meeting someone just as free spirited and strange to fully appreciate all of my quirks. I still figured all signs pointed to Lenny Kravitz and carried on with overpacking and planning for Paris.

As I walked home with my Parisian pal, he questioned why I had opted for a slicked back bun, barely a trace of makeup, and a somewhat buttoned up look. I explained to him that getting gussied up was the easy way out. Almost any woman can pour herself into a tight dress and push up bra, layer on liquid eyeliner and hide beneath a bonnet of big hair. As a matter of fact, that used to be my go to going out attire. Eventually, I realized that this look attracted a certain type of attention and many of the men who I had attracted were totally confused when they realized that I was a lot more of a challenge than removing a bandage dress. My friend digested this statement for a moment and then nodded in understanding. If I’m being completely honest, a little bit of my appearance was due to jet lag, dirty hair, and an uncertainty as to what was appropriate attire for a Monday night in Paris.

After crossing the Seine and strolling down the Avenue de la Bourdannais, he swore we’d get into a bit more trouble before he had to fly back to New York for another job on Thursday. My girlfriend would be arriving very early the next morning and I wanted to be well rested to greet her, though I would have liked nothing more than to linger in the moonlight and golden glow of le Tour Eiffel. Right before the sweetest kiss goodnight, he informed me his own birthday was only a few days away.